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Champions/Short 4
Marcus Blocking The old merchant knew full well the threat of the Rustfleet. The pirates were vicious. Greedy. During his decades in Moontide Bay, Marcus had lost countless wares to the Rustfleet buccaneers. He never handed them over without a fight though. If they wanted to rob him, they’d have to work for it. This time was no different. The roars of the flintlocks pistols were deafening. Even from inside Marcus’ shop. He was one of the few people in Moontide Bay to have an indoor shop, most other merchants were stuck outside at the marketplace. But Marcus had owned this shop for as long as Moontide Bay had existed. And nobody wanted to take it from him. Not even Gunter Flask, who hated Marcus. Gunter valued heritage and tradition, arguably to a fault. Marcus grabbed his cane, and walked over to the far end of the shop’s counter. It was littered by old lures, hooks and rolls of worn-out fishing lines. Marcus never sold anything from this part of the shop. But he made his way over there now. His leg hurt. Badly. It’d been like that since the Rustfleet attacked last time. Marcus was stabbed in the leg several times by some bloodthirsty goblin outlaw, and barely survived. Ever since, he hadn’t been able to walk properly. Forced to use a cane. He leaned the cane against the wall, as he reached underneath the counter. It was dark down there, so he couldn’t really see what he was looking for. He reached around for a bit, when he heard a foot kick against the shop’s front door. “We’re comin’ in, Blocking!” A voice yelled. Sounded like a human. Marcus looked up at the door. He adjusted his faded glasses, looking at the door. He’d blocked it with a few heavy crates. They weren’t getting in through the front door, and it would take them a few minutes to get to the back door. The only window in the shop was too high up for them to be able to climb through it. He had time. He ducked down again, under the counter. Cursing silently, he reached around, trying to get a hold of the weapon he was looking for. The sound of glass shattering. He heard the sound of something flying swiftly through the air, and the shriek of a raven. Darkspeakers Marcus thought to himself. Those disgusting creatures could transform from a raven to a human whenever they wanted. Truly repulsive creatures, if you asked Marcus. “Blocking, I see ya down der’.” The darkspeaker called out. Marcus touched the handle of his weapon, finally finding it. He smiled to himself. He wasn’t going down without a fight. Keeping his hand with the weapon hidden under the counter, he stood up and looked at a young red-haired girl. Like most darkspeakers, her spoulders were decorated with black feathers. With a saber in one hand and a flintlock pistol in the other, she gave Marcus a big grin. “Good to see ya ‘gain.” She said, slightly tilting her head. “You too, Rose.” Marcus placed one hand on the counter, for balance. The other hand, with the weapon, remained hidden under the counter. “‘Know I got ta do this.” She said, moving towards the counter. Marcus nodded. The Rustfleet was looking for treasure. They usually didn’t kill very many people, because that meant less treasure in future raids. The pirates weren’t stupid. So Rose wasn’t going to kill Marcus. Especially because the two of them knew each other fairly well. Rose was Marcus’ granddaughter. When her father, Marcus’ son, decided to join the Rustfleet, Marcus was beyond dissapointed. He tried desperetly to make him return to Moontide Bay, but it didn’t help. He stayed with the pirates, looting and raiding. But one day, many years ago, Marcus joined a crew to rescue civilians from one of the Rustfleet’s islands. And there, he found Rose, his granddaughter. He’d seen her a few times before, on previous Rustfleet raids. So Marcus took her, and brought her to Moontide Bay. Marcus didn’t realize that she was half darkspeaker though. Marcus hid that, raising her as a human. After twenty years at the fishing village, Rose left. Returned to the Rustfleet. She felt abandoned. Betrayed. “You know,” Marcus sighed. “you can drop the accent. We’re alone here.” Rose’s grin faded. “Give me all you got. All your gold.” She pointed the flintlock at him, her finger on the trigger. Marcus took a deep breath, nodding. He gestured at a locked metal box at the far end of the shop - where he kept all of his gold. He placed the key to the box on the counter. “It’s not too late to change yourself, Rose.” Marcus said, as Rose sheathed her saber and grabbed the key. The flintlock stayed pointed at Marcus. She began moving towards the box of gold. “Oh, that’s definitely true.” Rose said, keeping her eyes on Marcus, backing towards the box. “But I’m not going to change, am I? You took me from my parents, and raised me as someone I wasn’t. That’s just…” She shrugged, as if figuring something out. “evil. Right? That’s plain evil.” Marcus looked down. She wasn’t entirely wrong. But still very wrong. “The Rustfleet does bad things, Rose.” Marcus tried to argue. She was just a meter from the box now. Marcus knew what he had to do. “They kill people. They steal. They-“ “Maybe we do that for a reason, grandpa, evern thought of that?” Rose spat out. Marcus’ heart sank. That was the first time since she left she’d called him grandpa. He let go of the counter, and grabbed the weapon under the counter with both hands. He had no choice. He couldn’t let these pirates get away with this again. He had to kill her. Rose turned around to open the box, placing her flintlock on the table next to her. Revealing a harpoon, used to hunting large sharks and whales, Marcus cocked it and aimed it at his granddaughter. “Rose…” He said, taking a deep breath. “I am very sorry if you feel I’ve done you wrong.” Rose let out a dry laugh. “You’re not sorry about-“ She stopped mid-sentence, as she turned around and saw the harpoon aimed at her. Her eyew grew wide, as the harpoon flew towards her, hitting her in the chest. She fell onto her knees, silently. Marcus let go of the harpoon and grabbed his cane. He began moving towards the corpse of his granddaughter. A pool of blood began forming around Rose’s body. Marcus kneeled down to say a silent prayer, but was quickly interrupted by an explosion coming from above. He looked up. The roof was on fire. Getting back on his feet took a few seconds, but he got there, then moved towards the door. He managed to move the crates out of the way fairly quickly, before the roof collapsed above him. He jumped outside, landing on the wooden planks of the marketplace. He could see the waves of the sea beneath him. A lot of red and orange reflected in the ocean’s calm waves. He looked around. Moontide Bay was on fire. Everything was on fire. Grant was standing at the end of the main pier, firing his bow at a ship, sailing away. But that wouldn’t do much. Moontide Bay was no longer habitable. And it was no longer the capital of the Trawlers. Category:Champions